


don't make it weird

by bizarrebird



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hinted Unrequited Feelings, Holiday Hookup, M/M, Mentions of Background Relationships, RvB Smut Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizarrebird/pseuds/bizarrebird
Summary: Being alone on Valetine's Day sucks, but at least this year Tucker's not the only one.Written for RvB Smut Week: Holiday Hookup





	don't make it weird

**Author's Note:**

> Getting this posted just under the wire oops. I've never written this ship before, but I love Chucker, so I thought I would give it a try! It's been a while since I've written smut, so sorry if I'm a little rusty!

Valentine’s Day sucks. Tucker’s honestly never liked it, which people always have to act super shocked about. Yeah, big surprise. Everyone acting all lovey dovey and weird, no fucking thanks. Literally any other holiday is better for hookups (he scored three years in a row on Veteran's day). But noooo, on Valentine’s Day, everyone’s gotta be looking for ‘the one’, and Tucker’s pretty damn sure no one’s gonna look at him for that. 

Which is cool. The rest of the year, he couldn’t give less of a shit about that. Not like he needs some relationship shit getting in the way when he’s got Junior to take care of. The literal last thing he needs is someone coming into his life and for him and Junior to get attached and then have them fuck off. Hookups are better. Everyone has fun, no feelings get weird. It’s perfect. Honestly it is.

Most of the year, he’s fine being single, sometimes he even brags about it, being able to flirt with whoever, whenever, no strings attached. It’s usually awesome. Except on fucking Valentine’s Day. 

Tucker can’t not go to Donut’s stupid party. He throws it every year and if someone doesn’t go, they get to hear about it for weeks afterward. At least there’s decent drinks even if the decorations are godawful. 

Low, sappy music plays as Tucker wanders around Donut’s living room. It’s even more aggressively pink than usual in here. He pours himself another rum and coke from the refreshments table and glances around for any other singles. Not like he’s really gonna go for it if he does though. No one wants to just hookup on Valentine’s Day. He’s made that mistake before and had to change his phone number after. Some people can’t take a fucking hint. At least that guy’s never been at another party, Tucker barely even remembers his name. Mike something? No… Mark something. Whatever, not like it matters. 

Grif and Simmons are curled together on the couch being sickeningly sweet, although Tucker doesn’t really hold it against them. They’re usually not remotely gross to be around, so they can have today, that’s fair. Donut and his new trophy guy (Tucker thinks his name might be North, but he didn’t really pay attention when Donut introduced him, the dude was as interesting as skim-milk, nice ass though) not so much. They’ve been all over each other since the party started. They’re still macking in the corner now, and Tucker’s so glad the music is loud enough to hide the noises Donut’s probably making.

He’s heard those up close and personal, and that’s enough for him to be good never hearing that shit again. Tucker thinks, not for the first time, that he’s boned way too many people he has to deal with on a regular basis. Not his fault like half the people he knows look like they walked off some sexy magazine. 

Tucker shakes his head a little and wanders over into the kitchen, which is empty apart from a very irritable Church sitting on the counter. Church looking pissed is nothing new, but Tucker’s pretty sure he knows exactly what this is about. Cause he definitely saw Tex leave about an hour ago with that Connie chick. So Tucker approaches with relative caution. 

Church barely seems to notice him. There’s a half empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers and an unlit cigarette between his lips as he glowers at nothing. Definitely a bad sign.

There’s still no reaction as Tucker hops up on the counter next to him, close enough for their arms to brush. “You good, man?” 

Nothing. 

“Church? You fucking in there, dude?” Tucker waves a hand in front of his face. That at least gets enough of Church’s attention for him to look even more annoyed as he bats it away. 

“What Tucker?” The words are snappy and bitten off. Yeah, doesn’t sound like Church is having a good day. 

Tucker holds up his hands in surrender. “Nothing, Jesus. Just saw you spacing the fuck out over here, figured I should make sure no one slipped you something.”

Not that he really thinks anyone would. They’re both friends with a lot of shitty people, but no one nearly that bad. 

Church rolls his eyes and pats at his pockets, apparently finally remembering his cigarette. “I’m fucking fine. Just hate these stupid parties.”

“I hear that.” Tucker lifts his own cup and takes a drink. He glances at Church again, waiting until he lights up and takes a couple drags before reaching over to steal the cigarette. 

Church huffs at him and glares, but doesn’t do much else as Tucker brings it to his lips. Honestly, Tucker isn’t a big smoker… or a big drinker. This is only his second cup and he’s probably not gonna go for a third. But smoking looks cool and he’s not gonna be the one sober loser taking care of the rest of these assholes. 

He passes the cigarette back, a little surprised that Church actually takes it. Usually he gets weird about sharing shit like that, says it’s swapping spit, so it’s basically like they just made out. Which is stupid… but Tucker can’t help looking a little too long at Church’s lips as they curl around it. 

There’s nothing special about Church’s lips, they look like the guy’s never heard of chapstick in his life and his shitty little beard would probably be itchy as fuck. But there’s something about how he holds them in a perfect ‘o’ as he blows out smoke, long and straight and smooth, as he offers the cigarette back to Tucker, almost like he’s not even thinking about it

Swallowing thickly, Tucker takes it as he tries to nudge that weirdness back down. Stop looking at Church’s mouth. That’s fucking weird. Maybe if he gets him talking. 

“You meeting Tex later or something?” 

Church scoffs and it’s not a nice noise, his brow screwing up as he takes a long drink from the bottle. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and shakes his head. There’s a little drop lingering near the corner of his lips, Tucker kinda wants to lick it. “Fuck no. She dumped me.”

“Again?”

“Yeah… figure I’ll try and win her back eventually, but just… not tonight. Too fucking tired for that shit.” He reaches over and pulls the cigarette from Tucker’s lips without so much as asking. Then he takes another drag and puts it back. How many fucking beers has he had? Cause Tucker’s known Church since they were both getting shoved into lockers in high school, but the dude has never been so chill about his fingers brushing another guy’s lips like that without a couple ‘no homo’s first. 

“You already wasted?” Tucker cocks an eyebrow, because… okay, Church doesn’t look drunk. Drunk Church is usually wobbly and leaning on people, whining to anyone who’ll listen about how no one ever listens to him or something. 

Church looks at him finally, brows rising. “What? I’ve had like two beers, man, calm down. You my mom now or something?”

Tucker shrugs. “Just asking, dude. You only get touchy when you’re drinking.”

Church blinks at him slow. “I do not. And even if I did, I’m not touchy now. The fuck’s your deal?”

And that’s a great fucking question that Tucker has no idea how to answer. Cause yeah, Church sharing a smoke is kinda weird, but he’s the one that can’t stop looking at his lips and thinking about licking his stupid face and just looking at Church like he’s only just seeing him. It’s been way too fucking long since he got laid and he doesn’t remember when Church’s hair started getting kinda shaggy and long enough to pull, but then his hand is reaching over and doing just that. 

“I don’t have a deal, you’re the one shoving your cigarette back in my mouth,” he says, giving Church’s hair a little tug. It’s softer than Tucker expects it to be, less wiry than it looks and Church doesn’t instantly bat him away like he figures he will. He kind of just moves with the pull, tipping his head back a little. Which just makes it that much harder to not watch his throat when Church takes another drink. 

Church isn’t looking at him when he runs out of beer and lets the empty bottle dangle from his fingers. “Don’t make it fucking weird, Tucker. I’ve been giving you my cigarettes since high school.”

“Not like that, dude.” He shakes his head and shifts on the counter so he’s turned more toward Church, pulling up one leg and leaning forward a little. Church still hasn’t knocked his hand out of his hair, so he gives another little pull and Church makes this weird noise in the back of his throat and if it weren’t for the stupid pink filtered lights Donut’s put everywhere, Tucker would swear he’s blushing. 

“Yeah, well… the fuck’s it matter? You complaining?” Church still isn’t quite looking at him and this is super fucking weird. “You’re one to talk, man.” 

And Church isn’t wrong and usually that would be the part where Tucker pulls away and makes some joke and that’s definitely what he  _ should  _ be doing here. But he can’t stop looking at Church. It’s not like he’s never seen the guy before, hell he’s basically seen him every day of his life since he was fourteen. He knows how weirdly green Church’s eyes are and how his eyebrows are all bushy and his nose has that slight hook to the left from the time he bashed his face into the ground after eating shit on Tucker’s skateboard.

But he’s got these awesome cheekbones and a stupid sharp jaw that’s made to suck on. Cause Tucker’s never really looked like this. He met Church before he figured out he was into dudes, and by the time he got over himself, they’d already been friends for years. But if he looks at him now, really looks at him, Church is kinda hot. 

And he has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do with that. 

But he sure as fuck shouldn’t just keep sitting there with a hand full of Church’s hair, staring at him like a dumbass. He’s gotta do something. So Tucker pulls the cigarette from his mouth and leans forward to press his lips to the corner of Church’s jaw. His beard itches and this close there’s no missing the way Church’s breath hitches, and fuck if that isn’t weirdly hot. 

“What the fuck, Tucker?” But Church’s voice is soft, kind of uncertain like he actually wants an answer to the question. Tucker pulls back just a little and finds Church has put his beer bottle down and his hands are curled tight around the edge of the counter. 

Church looks at him and he’s close enough that Tucker could probably count his eyelashes even behind his stupid thick glasses. His eyes flick to the cup still in Tucker’s other hand. “You uh… you drunk already?”

It’s a decent question, but Tucker doesn’t even feel the start of a buzz. It might make things easier if he did. So he shakes his head and tosses back the rest of his drink, it burns a little on the way down, but Tucker knows it’s gonna take a lot more than that to get him wasted. “Nah, I’m good.”

And there’s probably a dozen outs he could take right there, but he doesn’t. He leans right back in and lets his lips drag just under the line of Church’s jaw. Church shivers a little, but doesn’t pull back. If anything, he kinda tips his head, leaving his neck exposed. Well fuck it. Tucker takes that as an invitation to mouth his way to Church’s pulse, dragging his teeth lightly over his throat. 

Church makes this soft whining noise and Tucker can feel his pulse pick up speed. Tucker works his way down Church’s neck, picking a spot just above the collaw of his shirt to suck at. The dude’s pale as fuck, so it doesn’t take that much to leave a mark and Church is probably gonna be pissed at him for that, but the soft curses and moans are nothing but encouraging. Shit, if he had known it was that easy to get Church going, Tucker would’ve tried this ages ago. 

“Tucker.” Church hisses out his name and grabs at his arm and for a second, Tucker’s pretty sure he’s getting shoved off the counter. But Church’s fingers just curl tight around his elbow and pull him closer. 

Alright, as much as Tucker’s glad he’s not on the floor right now, that doesn’t give him a whole lot of clues about what to do next here. Hell, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing now. So he pulls back a little, enough to look Church in the eye. 

And that might be a mistake, cause Church is all fluttering eyelashes and parted lips right now, breathing a little heavy, face definitely flushed. So Tucker doesn’t even think before using the hand that’s still in his hair to yank him into a kiss, almost smashing their faces together. 

It’s clumsy and Church’s glasses are kinda pointy and get in the way a little and his mouth tastes like shit beer, but he’s warm and his beard tickles in a way that’s kind of nice and he gets his tongue in Tucker’s mouth with surprisingly little hesitation. Kissing Church is like arguing with him. There’s a push and pull that’s too easy to settle into and it somehow feels familiar even though Tucker’s never let himself think about this before for more than five seconds at a time. 

A hand cups Tucker’s cheek, the touch there light even as Church’s teeth catch his lower lip and tug. It’s been years since Tucker’s been remotely embarrassed about the noises he makes, but his face goes warm at the soft, keening sound he lets out against Church’s lips. 

“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. Tucker pulls back a little and he’d really meant that as just an expression a second before, but looking at Church now… yeah, yeah alright he kinda means it. 

His face apparently makes that clear, cause Church blinks at him a few times, eyes widening. “What? Seriously? Here?”

Tucker rolls his eyes. “Yeah, dude, I want you to fuck me in Donut’s kitchen. There’s a ton of bedrooms upstairs, dumbass.”

Church is still staring at him like he doesn’t quite believe what’s happening. “Are you… are you fucking serious right now?”

“Yeah, why not?” Tucker huffs when Church keeps staring. “Look, dude, you’re not getting any and neither am I. Seriously, when’s the last time you got laid?”

The face Church makes tells Tucker all he needs to know. “That’s what I thought. So I’m saying we go upstairs and fuck and then no one can give either of us crap for being alone on Valentine’s Day.”

For a second, Tucker’s pretty sure Church is going to tell him to fuck off. Which, honestly, he would get. Tucker’s known Church most of his life at this point, and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen the guy look at anyone but Tex. And yeah, sometimes people make cracks about them being a little too friendly, which has kinda gotten worse lately cause no one can tease Grif and Simmons about that anymore since they finally got together. But it’s never been like that. At least, Tucker’s pretty sure it hasn’t been from his side, and Church has never said shit. 

Except that… he’s seen Church look at him like this before, eyes slightly narrowed, brow furrowed almost like he’s mad, but he’s not. Cause Tucker can always tell when Church is mad, even before other people can, his lips do this twitchy snarly thing and his jaw clenches real tight. But he’s not doing it right now. His mouth is sort of open and Tucker can’t not stare when he licks his lips. That’s Church’s thinking face, and Tucker suddenly knows exactly what he’s thinking about. 

Tucker hops off the counter and grabs at Church’s arm. “C’mon, we’re fucking doing this, dude.”

Church makes some vaguely irritated noises, but he doesn’t actually try to get free from Tucker’s grip as he leads the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. There’s not a whole lot of people left, but there’s still a wolf whistle aimed there way that gets Church cursing. They’re definitely gonna get shit for this later, but Tucker can’t be bothered to give a shit. He’s getting some, everything else is secondary right now. 

He yanks Church into the first empty bedroom he finds and presses him back against the door as soon as it shuts, mouth latching onto his neck. Church curses up a storm and buries his hands in Tucker’s hair, fingers tangling in his braids and tugging. Little sparks go through him and of fucking course Church would figure out what works best instantly. They really know each other too fucking well by now. Tucker groans against his neck and presses closer, locking them together from shoulder to hip. 

It’s too fucking hot and Tucker pauses in his attempts to get his hands under Church’s shirt to shrug his own jacket off. He’s trying to pick the next place to leave a hickey when Church’s hands snag in his hair again and pull him in for a kiss that feels like it’s gonna leave his lips bruised. Teeth clack and it’s a little too wet, but Church clearly learned a couple things from Tex, cause he takes charge in a way that makes Tucker’s knees suddenly feel like marshmallow. 

He kind of clings to Church a little and there’s no way he’ll admit to the noise that just came out of him later. Church’s hands go to his hips and grip hard and Tucker sucks in a sharp breath through his nose when Church turns them and gets right up against him, pinning him to the wall with his body. And it’s not like Church is a buff guy, but Tucker can feel all the lines of lean muscle as he drags his hands down his chest. 

Pulling at Church’s shirt and belt, Tucker groans against his mouth. “Clothes off, dude.”

Church snorts at him. “Figures.”

“What? You want me sweet talk your pants off? This isn’t prom night, dude, and I better not be punching your v-card here,” Tucker says, half laughing as he shoves Church’s shirt up his chest. 

That gets him an eye roll, but Church lifts his arms to help and they shed clothes in between nips and lingering kisses to jaws and collarbones. Tucker sucks at this spot just under Church’s ear as they start moving backwards and the string of curses gets a little more breathy and high pitch and that’s awesome in the weirdest way. 

They get to the bed as Tucker shoves Church’s pants down, something he’s apparently not expecting, cause he kinda gets stuck and falls back onto the mattress. And then they just both sorta freeze. Cause this is actually happening. He’s got Church looking up at him, already covered in what’s going to be a mess of hickeys, dick making a tent in his boxers, slightly too long hair going in all directions. 

This is actually happening. He’s gonna fuck Church. He’s gonna blow the dude who taught him to drive and faked being a reference to get him his first job. 

“You just gonna stand there or what?” Church looks a little awkward now, shifting like he kinda wants to pull his pants back up and call the whole thing off. Yeah, okay, no way that’s happening. 

Tucker gives himself a little shake in his head and flashes Church a grin. “Just admiring the view, baby.”

Church makes a noise like he’s choking and reaches out to smack Tucker’s side. But then his hand kinda lingers there, knuckles brushing over Tucker’s hip and he gives him that look again. Tucker catches his hand and--it’s cheesy as fuck, but it feels like the thing to do--holds it as he sinks to his knees and brings it to his lips, trailing little kisses over Church’s knuckles. 

“What the f-fuck, Tucker?” There’s a hitch in Church’s voice and he’s bright red when Tucker glances at his face. 

That needs to stop being a good question. Tucker shrugs and drops Church’s hand, both of his going to Church’s knees instead, pushing his legs a little further apart as they slide up his thighs. His fingers slip up under the hem of Church’s boxers and the shiver he gets in response makes him grin. “You ever think about this, Church?”

Church splutters. “Tucker! C’mon, don’t make it weird.”

“Just asking, man, y’know I wouldn’t give a shit if you did. Everyone knows I’m awesome at giving head.”

Scoffing, Church rolls his eyes as he leans to settle back on his elbows. “Yeah, sure you are. Guess that mouth’s gotta be good for something.”

Alright, those are fighting words. Now Tucker’s gotta blow his mind. Not like he wasn’t going to before, but now he’s got something to prove. No one questions his position as king of blowjobs.

He leans in and mouths at Church through his boxers, cause he knows he’s gonna have to wear these home and it’s gonna be hilarious later, and… alright, maybe he still needs to work himself up a little more before he’s ready for a face full of best friend dick. Church’s thighs twitch under his hands as he sucks at the base of his cock. His boxers don’t taste like they’ve been washed recently--gross--and it’s kinda hard to really get much in his mouth with the fabric in the way, but that’s enough to get Church cursing again. 

A hand settles in Tucker’s hair a little uncertainly and he glances up at Church’s face. If he was bright red before, he’s fucking glowing now, flushing up to his hairline. “I thought you said you were good at this.”

Church sounds cocky, but his fingers are still just slowly moving over Tucker’s braids instead of sinking into them and pulling the way Tucker wants. Alright, fuck it. Fuck it. Tucker hooks his fingers in the waistband of Church’s boxers and yanks them out of the way. He doesn’t waste time checking out Church’s dick--although he’s pretty sure his own is bigger--before taking the head into his mouth. 

“Fucking shit--” Church’s curses trip over themselves and turn into a moan as Tucker drags his tongue along his slit. 

Tucker bobs his head, watching Church’s face. God, if he didn’t have a mouth full of dick, he’d have the biggest shit eating grin right now, cause Church’s mouth is half open and his glasses are askew over closed eyes and fluttering lashes. Alright, so that’s kinda hot and Tucker has to resist the very strong urge to palm himself through his pants, which he should’ve taken off before, cause they’re tight in the worst way right now. 

But there’s no way he’d ever live it down if Church saw him jerking it now. Stay on task. 

Grabbing at the hand Church has in his hair, Tucker presses at his fingers until he gets the idea and gives a sharp tug that makes him see stars for a second and groan around his cock. He takes Church deeper and deeper until his nose presses into the dark curly hair at the base, pausing for a second to adjust to the feeling of Church’s dick brushing the back of his throat. Thank fuck for all that time he spent getting past that whole gag reflex thing.

“God, Tucker--Jesus fucking shit. I’m, I’m gonna--” Church sounds half wrecked already, his head tossed back, fingers clutching at Tucker’s hair so tight any little motion makes sparks shoot down to his toes. Shit. Okay making Church lose it with just his mouth would earn him bragging rights forever, but that’s not exactly what he had in mind, so he pulls off with a slurp.

Tucker doesn’t have time to think about what to do next cause Church’s first hand joins the first in his hair, yanking him up on top of him into a kiss that just about punches the breath out of him. For some reason, he had figured Church would be the kinda dude that wouldn’t wanna kiss dick mouth, but he’s so not complaining that he isn’t. 

“Take your fucking pants off,” Church says, biting the words into Tucker’s mouth. His teeth catch his lower lip roughly and Tucker whines, the sound a lot higher pitch than he means it to be. Fuck, okay, it’s not like he’s thought much about what Church would be like in bed, but if he had, he wouldn’t have pictured grabby hands and the teeth that are doing a number on his neck right now. 

Then again, Tex doesn’t seem like the type of person who likes the gentle vanilla shit, so maybe he should’ve seen this coming. 

“Shit, yeah--yeah I’m working on it.” Tucker can barely think straight, let alone get his words in a decent order, especially when one of Church’s hands leaves his hair and starts roaming his chest. His fingers find a nipple and Tucker shudders when they brush over it. That apparently gives Church and idea, and he goes back, giving a sharp twist that has Tucker almost yelling as he arches into him. 

Pants off, get them off, right now, they need to be off five minutes ago. Tucker fumbles at his fly and awkwardly wiggles his jeans down enough to kick his way out of them, his boxers following a moment later. 

“Fucking finally.” Church rolls them over and presses Tucker back into the bed as his lips trail bruising, biting kisses over his collarbone. 

Tucker gets a hand tangled in dark hair and yanks Church back up, kissing him until they’re both short on breath and he’s pretty sure Church’s lips are gonna be red and bruised for a week. Then Church gets a hand around his dick and Tucker does a full body gasp as he rolls into his grip. 

“Shit, Church--dude, just, fuck, just hang on a sec.” Tucker hates himself for it, but he needs a breath and they’ve gotta work some shit out here, so he pulls back as much as he can and presses at Church’s shoulders a little. 

“What Tucker.” It’s too flat to be a question, but it’s kinda hard to take Church seriously when his glasses are about to fall off his face and he’s got intense sex hair going on. 

“Just--how are we doing this? You wanna fuck me or just jerk each other off or what? Cause I’m up for whatever, but I wanna know what we’re doing before you try and shove shit in my ass.” 

“Uh. Fuck, I dunno.” And Church looks a little lost, suddenly all unsure and awkward, which is just fucking great, cause he’s still got a hand on Tucker’s dick, and he fidgets when he’s nervous, right now meaning that his fingers are absently rubbing at him and that’s awesome and super fucking distracting at the same time. “Do you want me to…”

Alright, ball back in his court, fine, whatever. He gives Church another gentle shove, enough to give him room to scoot up the bed and reach for the nightstand. Knowing Donut… yup, there it is. Tucker grins as he turns and tosses a bottle of lube and a roll of condoms Church’s way. “Good thing we’re doing this in Donut’s place.”

Church looks less pleased, making a face as he turns the bottle in his hands. “Does he have this shit in every room? The fuck am I asking, of course he does.” 

Tucker settles back on the bed, watching Church expectantly. “You know how to do this, right?”

“Course I fucking do.” Church is doing his ‘are you stupid’ voice, but he’s not looking directly at Tucker and is spending waaay too much time reading a bottle of lube and adjusting his glasses. Yeah, he’s got no clue. 

“Just lube up your fingers and shove them in me, dude, it’s not that hard.” 

“I fucking know, Tucker, calm down, Jesus.” But it’s only then that Church flicks the bottle open and dumps some onto his hand, probably a little too much, but better that than going in dry. 

Church nudges his legs apart and Tucker can’t really see what he’s doing, but then he feels a finger pressing tentatively at him. He’s a second away from telling Church to hurry up with it before he presses in fast and hard and Tucker grabs at the sheets and bits hard at the inside of his cheek. “Fuck, dude, when I said shove them in, I didn’t mean literally, shit--”

“Don’t be a baby.” Church sounds snappy and annoyed, but his other hand’s gentle where he rubs at Tucker’s leg and Tucker catches the slightly apologetic look on his face before Church ducks his head. And then there’s lips on his dick and all is forgiven. 

Tucker lets out a low groan, unclenching around Church’s finger as a tongue drags up the underside of his cock. Church gets the head in his mouth and Tucker is instantly sure he’s never sucked a dick before in his life, but he gets points for trying. There’s a lot of slurping and it looks messy as fuck, but Church’s mouth is wet and warm and he doesn’t protest when Tucker jerks up against him a little. 

It’s enough to get him through Church adding another finger and working him open. He brushes over that bundle of nerves and Tucker sucks in a sharp breath as a jolt goes through him, his toes curling. “Shit, Church, do that again.”

“You mean this?” And there’s another jolt as Church presses at him, fingers curling and moving in these little circles that make Tucker squirm. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” Tucker shifts, trying to rock down, fucking himself on Church’s fingers, head tossed back against the pillows. 

There’s a low curse from Church and then a hand goes around his cock again, pulling slow and Tucker’s going to lose his mind like this. “Anyone ever tell you you’re real fucking loud, dude?”

Tucker laughs breathlessly and gets an eye open to look up at Church, shooting him a grin. “That’s part of my charm, baby. So are you gonna fuck me or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rush me, alright?” There’s a slick sound as Church pulls his fingers out, leaving Tucker feeling a little empty, but it only takes a couple seconds for Church to roll a condom on and press up against his entrance again. 

Alright, he probably should’ve had Church go a little longer with the prep and there’s kind of a burn to the stretch as he pushes in, but the look on Church’s face and the way his hands grip at Tucker’s hips is so fucking worth it. “Jesus Christ, you’re tight.”

“The fuck did you expect, dude?” Tucker shifts a little as Church presses in, head tipping back as the stretch grows less uncomfortable. 

“Look, it’s not like--nng not like I’ve fucked a lotta guys before, alright? I don’t know what this shit, ahh, shit’s supposed to be like,” Church says, somehow managing to sound indignant even as he slowly thrusts into Tucker, his face getting redder by the second, breath uneven. 

“Holy shit, I’m taking your dude v-card, aren’t I?” Tucker snickers a little as Church curses at him, basically answering the question. Huh, he’s not sure how he feels about that. Whatever, it’s so not thinking time right now. 

He hooks a leg around Church’s hip, trying to shift to get a better angle, groaning low in his throat when Church’s dick brushes against his prostate and makes him arch his back off the bed. Then one of Church’s hands slides back up his chest to tweak his nipple and Tucker almost screams. Later, he’ll say he was playing it up to make Church feel better about himself, but that right there is a pretty good moment. 

“Dude, fucking c’mere.” Tucker grabs at Church and pulls him more on top of him again. 

They’re both sweat slick and breathing hard and way too wound up to last long. He gets a hand in Church’s hair and tugs at him until their mouths slide together in a hot wet mess of a kiss, more breathing each other’s air than anything else. Church is more enthusiastic than precise, but Tucker’s so past giving a shit  and he mutters encouragements into his mouth until Church is cursing and crying out before he goes limp against him. 

Tucker gives him a minute, pressing open mouthed kisses to the side of his face. He shifts a little, trying to get a hand between them, cause his dick isn’t super comfortable, still rock hard and pressed up against Church’s stomach. But Church bats his hand away and Tucker whines. 

“Dude, c’mon--”

“Just gimme a fucking second, alright? I’m getting to it, Tucker.” Church takes a couple breaths and then his lips move over Tucker’s neck as his fingers curl around his dick. 

Teeth find a sensitive spot just under Tucker’s jaw and it doesn’t take more than a couple pulls of Church’s hand to get him coming between them. Church rolls off pretty quick, muttering something about feeling gross. And then they just lay there, afterglow fading a little too quickly. 

Cause Tucker just fucked his best friend. His best friend who’s sort of dating or not dating one of the scariest people he’s ever met. And it’s Valentine’s Day. He just fucked his sort of taken best friend on motherfucking Valentine’s Day. What the hell is he doing with his life?

He blinks when Church drapes a blanket over him and rolls half toward him. Glancing over, the first thing he notices is that Church looks about as awkward and uncertain as he suddenly feels, his face still kinda red, eyes anywhere but on Tucker. Shit, okay… okay, they can make this not weird. They’ve been through way worse shit. This doesn’t have to fuck it all up. 

Tucker shifts a little closer and reaches for Church, pulling off his glasses. He ignores the noise of protest he gets and folds them up, sitting up so he can set them on the nightstand. Laying back down, he reaches for a squinty, frowning Church and lightly pushes at his shoulder. “Roll over, dude.”

“What? Why?” Church squints at him suspiciously, although Tucker knows for a fact that he probably looks like a big fuzzy blob to him right now. Church’s eyes are shit. 

“I can’t spoon you if you’re facing me, c’mon dude, post sex cuddles are a mandatory part of the Tucker experience.”

Church cocks an eyebrow at him, but then he huffs and slowly rolls onto his other side. Tucker scoots in close, pressing himself to Church’s back, taking a brief second to appreciate the fact that, even though Church has a couple inches on him, he’s definitely got him beat in the broad shoulders area. He loops an arm around Church’s middle, palm pressing to his chest as he leans in to let his lips brush the back of his neck, grinning at the tiny little shiver that comes after. 

“See? Awesome right?”

“Whatever.” Church does loosen up after a few minutes though, one of his hands slowly coming to rest over Tucker’s. “So… this is fucking weird right?”

And Tucker has a choice here. He takes a breath. “I dunno, man, doesn’t have to be. Not like it was bad, right?”

“So not the issue, Tucker,” Church says, clearly trying to sound annoyed, but Tucker knows his voice when he’s about to laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah. But I‘m just saying. Look, it’d be way more awkward if it sucked or something.” The only response that gets is a vague noise, which isn’t super encouraging, so Tucker shifts a little closer, pressing his forehead to Church’s shoulder. “This doesn’t have to make shit weird, I mean, you’re not suddenly gonna drop Tex and start chasing me, right?”

“God no,” Church says it so easily, no hesitation and there’s a tiny pause before they both laugh. 

Tucker gives him a slight nuzzle, smiling even though Church can’t see it. “See? It’s not like this changes shit. I mean, it was awesome, and you totally got your dude v-card punched.”

“Fucking hate you.” But that doesn’t stop Church from letting out a breath that’s more like a sigh and settling back against him. 

As he drifts off, Tucker thinks that there’s definitely worse ways to have spent Valentine’s Day. 


End file.
